A Double Heart for My Single One
by Autumnevening
Summary: Alt season 3. Angel comes back considerably more traumatized than in cannon. Spike picks up on the mind games where Angelus left off. Can a young Buffy deal with so much pain?
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Double Heart For My Single One

Author: AutumnEvening

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Well, I do, just not anything you'll be reading here. Please don't sue me, I already have more debt than I can handle.

Summary: Alt season 3. Angel comes back considerably more traumatized than in cannon. Angry that Angel is back and feeling Buffy is to blame Spike picks up on the mind games where Angelus left off. Can a young Buffy deal with so much pain, or will she eventually take the out that is offered to her?

Pairing: Buffy/Angel. Some Oz/Willow and Spike/Drusilla. I'm going to pretend Xander and Cordilia never happened.

Rating: T-PG-13. I think (if my descriptions of what Angel experienced are too harsh or graphic, please tell me so I can change it to M).

And Remember the adage; Readers rock but reviewers rule!

When he'd attacked her she was sure he would kill her. He had every reason; she'd betrayed his love and sent him to Hell, but he was so week that even his most savage efforts couldn't stand under the Slayer. Then, later, when she touched him he lashed out at her, snarling like a beaten dog, but why shouldn't he? He'd been beaten and burned, she could see the proof of that on his once-perfect skin -- and it had lasted for hundreds of years if what Giles had said had any truth to it. She ran then, away from the mansion, away from the burnt shape of a body in the floor, away from him, but mostly away from what she'd seen. In those few moments of compassion and pain, when she could not help but reach out and touch his decimated form, when her skin first came in gentle contact with his, it had been as though she herself was transported to Hell. 

Before her stood towers of crisscrossing medal, upon which hundreds of bodies were tied, burning, and lighting up the ever red sky in great spires of flame. The sounds of screaming echoed through ever crevice and every body. Long wagons drawn by men, whipped and abused until their bodies could hardly sustain them, or couldn't at all, and then they were thrown to the side of the road to weep and be trampled. In valleys that reeked of feces and burnt flesh lay thousands of skeletons, but they were not the bodies of the dead. They were alive, living bones, souls wracked with agony, denied sight and sound until their flesh and organs oh-so-slowly rebuilt themselves, until their screams could be heard, and then it started again, because in Hell you cannot die no matter how much you wish it.

She jerked away then, jerked away and ran from what she saw, hoping against hope that it was only her imagination, and not the unnatural sight that being the Slayer had brought her.

Then when Pete had attacked her she hadn't really known what to think. Was he a monster or a man? Could men be monsters? What was he? He was stronger than her, savage, and later she would learn that he embodied a level of savagery that only comes with a soul, and she was loosing. Than Angel was their, angry and violent, and she thought that surely he'd come for her. But as she'd ducked and dodged, moves that were so instinctive to the Slayer, he passed her and flung himself at Pete. Then, for a stunned moment, she had no clue what was going on. The creatures in front of her battled and her mind could not tell who was the man, or who she wanted to win. Wouldn't they both kill her if they did? Pete had gotten free for a moment, and come after her. Her question was answered; with a look of such indescribable rage Angel wrapped the chains that still hung from his wrists around Pete's neck and snapped it.

He took a step toward her, over the limp form of her former classmate, and Buffy took an instinctive step back. This was it. This was it. But his next step had faltered and Buffy found herself rooted in place. The love she had never lost welling up inside of her. Was he injured? Was he ok? At first he seemed confused, and as he approached her there was no recognition in his eyes, but then it had come. She could see it, the moment that he truly saw her, and he was so close she couldn't have done anything if he did attack her, but he didn't. Instead he'd whispered her name in a voice of such anguish and longing that her hardening heart tore at the sound of it, and he dropped to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and he wept.


	2. Chapter 2

It was some time before Buffy realized that she, too, was crying and longer still until she realized Angel was speaking and what he was speaking was her name.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…" whispered into the fabric over her stomach, like a talisman or a wish. As she regained her senses and wiped at her tearstained face she realized that he was trembling deeply. Apparently collapsing to his knees had been as much about exhaustion as anything else, and now that the adrenaline had gone out of him he seemed near passing out. It was mere moments before she knew that she had to get him out of there. Her friends would be coming to find her soon, and Giles. They would want her to, oh god, yes, she had to get him out of there.

Carefully she helped him to his feet and began the long trek to the mansion, deeply aware that if it weren't for her Slayer strength and his emaciated state she wouldn't have been able to achieve such a feat-nearly all his weight was on her and several times she caught him as his legs gave out entirely. He whimpered the entire time, a sad animalistic sound, so like most of the sounds he'd been making, the only variation being her occasionally whispered name, and Buffy knew he had to be in horrible pain. Pain from Hell. Hundreds of years of torment and it was her fault. She'd made the choice and followed her duty. She saved the world. It was little consolation. She sent him there.

As they took the final steps into the mansion Buffy took a moment to wipe the tears that had clouded her vision. She managed to stifle them but the horrible weight of guilt still remained. Was this how Angel felt about those he tortured? Did he live with it ever day? He had been a pillar and she had hardly known it.

Gently she laid him down on the floor, wishing she could put him somewhere else, but already too physically and emotionally tired to even look. Instead she focused on him, still only half dressed, still half crazed. Did he know where he was? Did he really know who she was? He'd said nothing but her name since his return. Where was her ring? He stank. This thought was late in arriving but as potent as it ever could have been. Angel did stink, he smelled of soot and seared flesh, shit and old blood, and Buffy knew that if she could smell it than it must be absolutely horrible for Angel's sensitive nose.

She needed to clean him up, patch up his…his many many wounds. She could do that. Energized by the thought that she could somehow begin to make this right she lifted her hand from where it had rested on Angel's trembling side and began to stand, but she stopped immediately as a choked cry followed by a sad keening wale came from him. She crouched down again, shocked, her heart breaking anew as she again rested her hand on him.

"It's ok," she whispered, trying to speak through a knotted throat, "It's ok. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. It's ok…" But it wasn't ok. Buffy didn't know if it ever would be. She was 16, stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen to her, or to people she loved. She was supposed to be invincible, life was supposed to be good. She shouldn't have had to send her boyfriend to Hades so the world could go on sucking. Everything, everything was wrong.

She waited there, her Slayer strength coming in handy where other people's legs would have cramped badly from crouching so long, and rubbed Angel's side, whispering gently to him until he finally fell into a fitful sleep. She stood up and moved back, taking a minute to watch him as he began to twitch in the throes of a night- no, in the throes of a memory. She needed to get him things, real things, she even in all her youthful anxt she understood she didn't have the option of being afraid anymore.

Quietly she left the mansion, making sure the jam the door shut so no one could come in, praying to whatever god might be out there that her vampire stay safe for just a while longer. She almost laughed at that. Safe. Right.

Once in the house, sneaking quietly past her mother's room, she gathered up the required supplies, though she would need more, and put them in a bag. Sighing she sat down on her bed, pulling Gordo to her and hugging him tightly. At least Mr. Gordo wouldn't judge her, wouldn't point out the dried blood on her shirt, or the unidentifiable smudges on her pants. There in the middle of the night the darkness seemed to consume her. Angel was back but he wasn't back, and she was responsible, responsible for everything. She tried to choke back the sob but it didn't work and there in her room she finally broke down, deep sobs wracking her body, and she was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

When her tears were dried up Buffy had fallen asleep so dawn was streaking the sky with pink before she returned to the mansion. She un-jammed the door, thinking that later she'd have to reattach now broken hinges, and walked in quietly with her bag. Angel was still asleep on the floor, trembling but otherwise still. Hoping not to disturb him too much she walked over and rested her hand on his shoulder, but as inert as Angel had been the moment before his movement was so fast she almost couldn't follow it. Again dodging was instinctive, but she wasn't prepared to ward off a blow and so, her bag spilled, she dropped onto her rear with a thud.

The first thing Angel was aware of was a touch. A touch on his shoulder and everything in him screamed. Touches were always bad. Touches brought pain. Yes, touches were bad, always bad. He lashed out, hoping to at least wound his attacker. He'd long since lost the hope of ever winning a fight, of ever not being drug away to more torment, but he could fight, he would always fight. Then, as soon as it had been there the touch was gone. He paused, his entire body taunt as he tried to blink through the brightness. It was so so bright here. He couldn't remember the last time things had been this bright. It burned his nocturnal eyes, made him want to hide. But where was the attacker? Where was he for that matter? Could it have been a bit of nothing? A touch of ash or a sprinkle of some poor soul's blood? He didn't know and his tortured mind could not find the words to voice what he was feeling. Long ago he'd lost his words-all but one: Buffy. It was the only word he knew now, the only face he remembered from before he came to that place, the only thought that soothed him. Buffy. He had to get back to her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound and he cocked his head to the side, stilling blinking and trying to adjust his eyes. He knew that sound. Someone was crying. He wanted to cry. Every cell in his body still screamed, and yet this place was more comfortable than he could remember. Perhaps someone kind had-no, there was no one kind there, and if there was that soon ended. He should know. He'd been kind once. Still, there was so much anguish in the sound.

Continuing to blink Angel found himself surrounded by hazy stone walls, and there lying on the floor in front of him was a girl, her golden hair draped over her face, and she was crying. Things were scattered around her but Angel couldn't fathom what they were for. Perhaps they were junk, or perhaps they had been used to torture her. Unsure of what else to do he moved his tender body closer to her, and he was lucky that she wasn't that far away or he wouldn't have been able to reach her, and rested one of his hands atop one of her warm ones. She gasped and pulled her hand away as though he had burned her, and perhaps he had. In the strange world he had inhabited even the most benign gestures could cause pain and torment. Then she lifted her head and Angel thought perhaps he was the one being tormented. 

They had done it so many times, paraded her image in front of him, made him believe he was with her, or she was with him, only to rip it away and bare him to the horror of reality. Perhaps it was the same this time, but even after four hundred years he couldn't not help but to hope.

"B-buffy…" His voice was ragged and it hurt to speak but he had to speak when faced with what he'd longed for. The image in front of him nodded and came closer. Suddenly he was enveloped in warm arms and an achingly familiar smell filled his lungs. Tears pricked at his eyes. Please let it be real this time. Let her be real.

"Buffy…" Soft salty wetness dripped down his chest and Angel knew she was crying again. Had he hurt her? Something struck inside him; he had hurt her, and he tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him. Her gentle grip on him tightened and Angel froze, unsure what to do.

"Please," her voice begged, that beloved voice, "please just stay here for a bit." Angel wasn't entirely sure what she said but her actions told him enough and he relented, relaxing back into her grip and accepting the comfort. This was what he'd longed for. He didn't know why, he couldn't remember, but he knew this was what he'd wanted all along so he draped his arms around her in a clumsy hug. He couldn't quite remember her, this love from his dreams, but he knew he would do anything she asked, even return to Hell, if she asked him, so he whispered the one word he knew, and waited.

If anyone would like to beta these, or direct me to someone who would beta them, that would be lovely.


	4. Chapter 4

When Angel swung at her all Buffy's thoughts about gaining his forgiveness flew out the window. Of course he'd hate her. She was so stupid. Stupid stupid Buffy. She began to gather the scattered first aid supplies to her but when she looked up and saw Angel's face, angry and confused, pale tear tracks marking dirty face, tremors rushing through his body, she crumbled again. She couldn't do this. She'd only just gotten back home. Her mom was going to kick her out the minute she knew. And Giles…

Buffy cried softly as she laid there, too overwhelmed to think, to heartbroken to move. She felt like a shell. She felt soulless. Then a cool calloused hand rested atop one of hers and because sadness is so easily transformed into fear she gasped and jerked away. But there was Angel, and he wasn't trying to harm her, instead concern colored his ever confused look. He obviously didn't understand what was going on, and didn't recognize her, but he was trying to comfort her.

She knew the moment he recognized her, again. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in a look of such shock that it would have been laughable in any other situation.

"Buffy," he whispered and Buffy was galvanized into action. She wrapped her arms around his cold form, though whether she was trying to give comfort or get it she didn't know. All she knew was that she needed him, desperately. "Buffy," he whispered again into the soft skin of her neck. Buffy, only her name, a condemnation even as the praised her, and she could not help the tears that fell onto his shoulder and trailed down his arm. Her Angel. Her broken Angel. Would he ever be well? Her young heart, hardly able to fathom next month let alone years from now, thought perhaps not.

And then he tried to move away. Panicked that he was leaving, suddenly uncaring that he might choose to kill her, she pulled him back. "Please," she cried, "please stay here for a bit." For a moment he resisted, but then he fell into her embrace, nearly knocking her over, and wrapped his arms around her. Despite her shattered heart Buffy had never felt more joy in an embrace.

After some time she realized that he was not moving, not breathing even, though breath had never been common for him, and when she tried to untangle herself from him and stand he clung to her. His eyes were closed and he whimpered and even as she watched his face began to crumple into tears. Confused and further horrified Buffy knelt before him, running gentle hands over his face, trying to coax him into opening his eyes. "Angel. Angel sweetie, open your eyes. Please, look at me. Open your eyes, Angel. It's ok." He shook his head at first but did as she asked, and the moment his dark gaze met hers his awe returned. Buffy felt the knife in her heart dig deeper. She didn't deserve to be looked at like that. She should be looking at him like that. She swallowed hard.

"I-I brought some supplies, to clean you up…and-and some blood. It's not the best, but it's something, right?...I need to get you cleaned up…Is that ok?" Angel only stared at her and then wrapped his arms around her again, a deep rumbling purr emanating from his chest. Buffy froze. Vampires purred? Angel purred? She could only assume that 

he liked her talking because he apparently didn't understand a word she said. "Okay," she said with a shaky voice. "I guess I'll take that as a yes."

With Angel still clinging to her she did her best to gather the supplies around her and then pry his arms from around her waist. The moment she succeeded his eyes shut tight and he turned his head away, sorrow already beginning to transform his face.

"Angel!" His eyes snapped open, transformed yellow for a moment before they returned to their natural chocolate, and Buffy sighed, and rested her hands gently on his face, trying to reassure him, and smiled softly. Ok, good. An Angel of the here and now, even if he didn't understand her was definitely of the good. Picking up a washcloth and a jug of purified water Buffy held them in front of him. "I'm going to try and clean you up and then bandage you, ok? Try and let me know if it hurts. I-I'll stop." Her voice began to dwindle, "I don't want to hurt you…" Angel only stared.

Buffy nodded resolutely, swiping at the tears that yet again blurred her vision. "Alright. Lets get started." She poured the water onto the cloth and gave Angel's wounds a last once over. It was going to hurt. There was no way to keep it from hurting. Some of the whip marks were so deep she could see bone. Buffy swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and began.


	5. Chapter 5

Note from Autumnevening: Ok, my profile tells me that a bunch of you are looking at this. But no reviews?! Hang in there with me. My chapters may be short, but I have lots of them coming. And hey, if anyone wants to beta there'll be a lot less mistakes.

It was easy at first, she just washed away the grime and dirt and blood. Easy until she got to the actual wounds, the torn flesh upon scars, the brown spots that wouldn't leave because they were bruises, the mud that wasn't mud but the mottled flesh of a burn. Then it got hard. She had to stop several times to go outside and vomit, and the entire time images flashed through her head. A horrific hellish slide show. Bodies dismembered. People screaming as their entrails were eaten before them. People beaten, tortured, violated, and all the while demons stood over them in the putrid heat and laughed at their decimation. 

The supplies she brought got her through the top half of Angel's injuries. He looked a little like a mummy, and so she told him so. She tried to keep talking, keep him looking at her because it seemed to ground him, but when then pain became too bad he closed his eyes and she could almost see how his mind transported him back to Hell, and she would stop and have to coax him back to her. Each time his eyes opened it was though he had only just seen her and each time Buffy had to fight not to break down in tears.

"You're going to look like a mummy when I'm done," she chuckled, though the sound came out strangled. "All white. They won't think you're a vampire at all. But I think you make a better vampire. You don't look Egyptian at all. Hey, I have to get more supplies, but I'll be back soon ok?"

She stood and Angel's head, that had been bowed until then, shot up, alarm in his eyes. She could see the question: Are you leaving me? Swallowing down the feeling that someone was closing off her air supply Buffy did her best to smile at Angel. "I'll be right back, ok? I just have to get supplies. You just wait right here and I'll be back." 

At that she turned and left. She knew that if she stayed any longer she'd never leave.

With a heavy heart Angel watched her go. He didn't know if she would come back. He didn't think she would. He wanted to stop her, to tell her it wasn't safe out there, but he was so weak and so confused. It had been so long he couldn't even find the words to warn her. He watched her go and his heart seemed to tear anew. To have such kindness, and despite his multitude of throbbing injuries he knew that was what she had been offering him, and know it would soon be destroyed, was more than he could bare. He crawled over to a corner and curled in a ball. He would step into the sun if he thought it would help, but he'd tried that before, you can't die in Hell. Instead he closed his eyes and wished for nothingness.

Buffy was at the store when she ran into Willow. Willow, who immediately pulled her into a corner.

"Buffy, where were you at school today? Giles is really worried and your mom is freaking out!"

Buffy glance away guiltily. "Oh…uh, it's slayer business, Will."

Willow frowned, knowing exactly when her friend was lying to her, and caught her arm as she turned to walk away. "Buffy?"

Buffy's eyes met Willow's with a determination she had only once seen before. "Willow, that's all I can tell you. I'm fine. Now let me go."

Willow released Buffy's arm and stepped back, suddenly very aware that her friend wasn't an average human. "Buffy?" But Buffy was already walking away.

"I'll call you will. Don't worry, everything's fine."

Back at the mansion Buffy dropped her new supplies. She needed to give him blood next and on impulse she'd snatched some from a local blood bank. They'd wonder why their back door was ripped off, but she figured it was for a good cause. At least she hoped it was. The stuff she'd trained off the steak her mother was thawing in the fridge would hardly have done him any good anyway.

As she moved closer she could hear the clinking of chains and when she entered the room where she'd left him she gasped at the sight of Angel curled up in a corner, apparently asleep again, and trembling so hard the manacles that still bound his wrists rattled. I occurred to her that she should remove them, and grabbing the key out of the little pocket in her jeans she headed purposefully toward him.

It wasn't until she was a mere foot from Angel that Buffy stopped again. This time by anew sound. Purring? Again? He seemed to tremble and twitch in his sleep, surely he couldn't be having a good dream, could he? Then, as if from some otherworldly power a revelation came to Buffy, she'd heard somewhere that sometimes animals will purr and groom themselves in an attempt at self comfort. Oh god. She took a step back. Was that what he was doing? Was he hurting that badly?

She stepped forward again, determined to at least ease his pain and rested her hand on his shoulder. This time she was ready for him to jerk awake and leapt back before she could be struck. "Hey Angel. It's just me, just Buffy," she soothed.

After several moments of blinking and looking around in confusion Angel noticed her. This time his shock seemed doubly potent, though the Slayer had no idea why. "I brought back more first aid things," she said, offering a weak smile. "Oh! And blood." Quickly she reached into the paper sack she'd brought with her and pulled out a bag of blood. 

"See?" She handed it to him. Angel took it warily, eying her the entire time as he sniffed the bag, then in one quick motion he turned from her and drained it, dropping it empty to the floor in mere moments. Surprised but pleased Buffy offered him another. He drank four bags before Buffy decided to stop. She had a feeling he would drink until he burst, and as it that gashes that had been dry just a few minutes ago were now seeping blood. She tried not to think about it. She tried not to think about the incredibly grateful way he was looking at her either.

"Well then," she said, "we probably ought to deal with the rest of you huh?" Angel only stared but suddenly Buffy felt her face heating. She would have to take off his pants now. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that, it seemed she'd only just given them to him. But…she knew there were more things that needed to be dealt with. She'd seen his state after he'd arrived. Her face reddened even more as she thought of the last time she'd really been alone with him naked. Buffy sighed and rubbed the spot between her eyes that was beginning to ache. This was going to be hard.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Ha, I bet a bunch of you thought I wasn't going to update. That's always what I wonder, at least, when a new story is posted. First I wonder if reading the story is going to be a waste of my time, then, when I like it, I wonder if they're ever going to update. So, here I am, updating. Also, I've gone back through the other chapters and added a few things (like the opening paragraph to Ch 1), and cleaned up some of the language, so feel free to go back and reread it. And, I already have the outline for chapter 8, and possibly 9, completed so it should be coming soon. And, my bedroom has been invaded by sugar ants and it's totally freaking me out. xp

Yentruoc: I'm glad you're enjoying it! I definitely plan to keep going.

Suzzywuz: This is my favorite kind of Angel/Buffy story too. Actually it's my favorite type of story period. Thank you, you're so sweet. I'm so glad you like the story! I'm definitely going to keep going (and I'll be going much faster if I keep getting such lovely reviews wink).

Wingnuttia: I'm glad you like the story.

Elizabeth: I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the story. Thank you very much for the particular review, those are the best kinds. I hope you enjoy this next update.

Destiny: I am. Hehe.

She had been so gentle with him, and she had cleaned him, wiped the grime off his body and soothed his raw skin. He was in such shock at her generosity and so absorbed in the simple pleasure of not being in pain that it took him several minutes to realize what she was now doing, and when he did panic speared through him. He jerked away from her exploring hands so quickly that he tore open several of the healing wounds on his back. The pain made white spots dance before his eyes. He tried to move away, but the covering he had, and he couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten it, had tangled around his knees. After a few scrambled tries to pull it up he opted to curl into a ball in order to cover his most sensitive parts. He knew they both caused him pain and caused others pain and in that shameful knowledge he wrapped his arms around his head and whimpered. Why wouldn't it end?

Then she was touching him again and though he tried to escape, and then to lash out, she held him firm. It as at that moment that Angel realized that she was stronger than him. Of course she was, everyone was, especially them. He shuddered at the thought that she might be one of them. But she had her face. He was so confused, and there was a spot inside of him that felt raw and decaying, it had been there for so long, but it eased some when she was around. Still, he curled up there, unmoving, his face to the floor, as she bared him to her gaze and he didn't see the tears that spilled down her face or the way she flinched and trembled whenever he did. He was back where he had been for so long, trying to steel himself for another round of torture.

Buffy picked up the washcloth and began to wipe Angel's skin clean, but from his actions he thought she was about to rip his skin off. She choked back a sob and continued her work. She had to get this done. She was the slayer. She saved the world. She could get him cleaned up. She sniffled and continued, studiously avoiding his more…private parts, and trying to deal with the rest. Wipe off the hell stuff, cleanse the wound, put antibiotic cream on it, bandage, and repeat. Ad nauseum.

She was touching him. He didn't want to be touched. Angel shuddered, wishing he knew how to express this sickness he felt inside of him. But then she had the right to do what she wanted. She had been kind, and no one was ever kind to him. She had the right to exact payment, and in Hell there was no payment other than flesh, so he held still and made himself pliable, hoping it would be oven soon. Hoping she would act like her again, and hoping the kindness hadn't ended. He would give her whatever she wanted if she continued to be kind.

Angel purred and keened the entire time, and she could definitely see the benefit in cats purring because she wanted to just gather him up in her arms and make his pain go away, but she also thought she'd never be able to hear that sound again without her heart breaking. Still, that wasn't the hard part. None of it was, not until she began to clean around the back of his left leg. Angel cried out and arched off the floor, and Buffy scuttled back for a moment, entirely confused. But his movement had made the gash she had touched easier to see and when she bent down to look at it her blood seemed to turn cold. It went from the top of his thigh almost to the bottom of it and she could see fat, tendons and muscled bared. In addition something glittered from the deepest part of the wound. Someone had shoved something in there. Did he had things shoved in his other wounds? She hadn't known to look.

Very gently she reached out to touch it but at the first contact he cried out again. Buffy shivered and bit back a cry of her own. She had to get that thing out. Carefully she crawled around Angel until she was facing him. She lifted his head from his arms and moved his face so that they were looking at one another. He was too pliant for her liking but she put that thought in the back of her mind. Instead she focused on getting that glazed look to leave his eyes. When she finally believed he was looking at her she spoke:

"Angel…you have something in that…gash on your leg. I have to get it out…" Buffy sniffled as her voice failed her and it took several moments for her to regain it. "I-it's going to hurt…a lot. I'm so so sorry."

At that she gently let go of Angel's face and moved back around. Taking a deep breath she rested one hand on his hip to steady him, and hold onto him for what would inevitably be an intensely painful experience. Lacking the subtlety that comes with age she took one more deep breath, and with Slayer quickness, reached in and grabbed a hold of it. Angel howled and nearly thrashed free but she held on tight, her fingers digging into his pale flesh in an attempt to get him to hold still. "Just a little more," she murmured and gripped the thing tighter. It seemed to be a metal rod of sorts. No wonder he'd collapsed so many times on the way to the mansion. And now Buffy marveled at his ability to move at all; he had attacked her and fought Pete, all with this thing in his leg. Buffy swallowed her gag reflex. Ok, on three. One, two, and she wrenched the rod free with the sucking tearing sound of deep flesh and blood.

It was over a foot long and Buffy stared at it in horror also as she saw the amount of blood staining her hand. Angel! Her head snapped up to see that he had passed out and was now lying limp on the stone floor. From his leg blood puddle. Throwing the hated object aside Buffy grabbed up the sanitizer, needle and thread, and bandages and set to work. Perhaps it was better that he'd passed out. She shook her head. Scratch that, it was much better that he'd passed out.

Buffy took careful time sewing up the leg, and on a second thought turned to some of the other deeper injuries and sewed them up as well. It couldn't hurt him any more and would probably help them heal faster. Then she moved around and gingerly wiped off his…ahem, yes, those. She wiped the grime and blood, tried to do her best to bandage it, though she felt ill at the thought of what might have caused any injury to his…parts. Better that he was unconscious, she wouldn't have been able to do it if he'd been watching her.

It also gave her the opportunity to search out a bed, and there was one, though it had no blankets and no sheet. She made a mental note to get a blanket for him later. She lifted him in her arms, still far too easy, he was Angel, his bones like iron rods. When he was at his full strength he was like a jungle cat, all hard heavy muscle and thick bone. Even as the Slayer she should have been struggling to carry him.

After she set him down she took a moment just to watch him. Nearly every inch of him was bandaged, and his hair was still greasy. He wasn't really clean, but he was better, and more comfortable. She almost smiled as she watched him. He was so beautiful, and in his sleep the look of anguish had faded just a bit. Big tears dripped down her face as she thought of her Angel, and wondered if he would ever come back to her, because whoever this was, he definitely wasn't the guy she had known before. He was preferable over Angelus, but only slightly. And yet she loved this broken man too. She sighed, wiping angrily at her tears. She had no right to cry. She hadn't been the one in Hell.

Quietly she walked over to the cooler with the blood and took a few bags out, then she sat down beside his sleeping form and rested one hand on the only spot on his chest that seemed uninjured. Angel woke with a start but she held him down, talking soothingly.

"Hey Angel. It's just me. Buffy. You're ok now. I brought you some blood."

Angel frowned and looked at her. At least this time he didn't seem to think she was the enemy, and he seemed a little more…there. "Buffy." He whispered, and tears spilled down his face. She nodded and looked away, unable to handle more emotions.

"Yeah," she choked and brought up the first bag of blood. Angel sniffed the air and looked from her to the bag, from her to the bag, several times before it seemed to dawn on him that the blood was for him.

"Hey, I don't drink the stuff," Buffy said, and Angel snatched it from her, drinking it down in seconds before dropping the empty bag beside him on the bed. By the fifth bag his head was beginning to nod and his eyes drooped. It was obvious he needed sleep, real sleep, not the pass out from the pain kind, and his full stomach was definitely pushing him in that direction. On impulse Buffy leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his sunken cheek. He stared at her with wide eyes.

"I have to go," she said, "but I'll be back. I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

When Buffy opened the door to the house, worn and weary, her mother was standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Where have you been, young lady?"

Shocked, Buffy opened her mouth, "…Giles-"

"Is on his way over. I called him as soon as I saw you coming up the walk. Buffy, he's been worried sick."

At the revelation Buffy felt her stomach drop out. Busted. It was then that she noticed a very guilty looking Willow standing near the couch. Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"I see the interrogation went well."

"Buffy!" Joyce reprimanded. "You have no right to get mad at your friend. She only wants what's best for you."

Tired beyond tired, frustrated, and frightened Buffy rolled her eyes and turned her glare to her mother. "Want, want, want. Well, sometimes we don't get what we want, do we, Mom?"

Joyce's mouth fell open and her eyes flashed. To anyone watching it was easy to see where Buffy got her temper. Joyce's teeth snapped together with an audible click and she glared back just as defiantly at her daughter. "I went through hell this summer," she hissed, and Buffy nearly laughed at the irony of her words, "and I will not go through it again. You sit down on that couch and do not move until Mr. Giles gets here. This is not a suggestion. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Buffy replied as she stomped over to the couch and threw herself down beside Willow.

Willow fidgeted with her long red hair. "Um…Buffy?"

Buffy turned to glare at her friend, tried not to break into tears at the thought of being kept from Angel. "Will. Now is a very. Bad. Time." With a startled gasp Willow nodded and turned to face the wall. Buffy just crossed her arms and sunk further into the cushions. She shouldn't have come home at all.

It wasn't twenty minutes later when Giles burst through the door.

"Buffy!" It was hard to tell whether he was more shocked or angry. "You've been gone for nearly two days! I thought-"

"I'm fine."

Joyce stepped up behind Buffy's Watcher. "Where were you Buffy?"

"Bronzing?"

Her mother blanched. "For two days?!"

Giles crossed his arms and gave his best angry Watcher stare. "You weren't there, I checked. Where were you?"

Buffy shrugged. She was so going to smash things when she got free of this. "I went camping."

"Buffy!"

Buffy stood but did not look at her mother or watcher.

"Buffy, where were you?" Giles again.

Buffy's head snapped up. "It doesn't matter. I'm not there now."

Giles sighed and motioned for her to stay. "Your mother and I are going to talk, don't go anywhere." He and Joyce walked back to the kitchen where furtive whispering could be heard. Buffy clenched and unclenched her fists.

"This is ridiculous!" she hissed.

Willow looked up, surprised. "Buffy, you were gone. They thought you were gone again."

Buffy looked over at Willow and some of her anger deflated. She knew they were worried, but something more important was happening.

"W-where were you anyway?" Buffy only raised an eyebrow at her friend's question.

"Ok, ok," Willow said, raising her hands a little, "you don't need to tell me."

Buffy nodded, then rested her head in her hands and waited.

When Giles and Joyce walked back out into the living room their stoical faces said it all. They'd come up with her punishment, and they were at a consensus.

"Buffy, Mr. Giles and I have made a decision." She looked to Giles, who nodded and took off his glasses to clean them furiously.

"Yes, well. You will go to school, and report to me. After school you will study in the library. You will check in with either your mother or me every three hours…And, you will be patrolling with Faith."

Buffy's eyes widened. "What? This is so unfair!"

Giles continued to clean his glasses and avoided looking at the girl he was beginning to think of as a daughter. "No, what you did to us, your actions, were unfair. This is simply consequences."

Oh, Buffy knew consequences. She was living consequences in more ways then they could dream. Beginning to loose hold on her composure Buffy screamed and stomped up to her room where her door slamming was probably heard three houses down. Inside her room she grabbed a hold of the foot of her bed and gripped it, trying to get a hold of her breathing and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that was trying to consume her. When she finally calmed she was surprised to see that the foot of her bed had splintered under her hands. Wordlessly, and with eyes growing rapidly dull from exhaustion and pain Buffy crawled up onto her bed, pulled Mr. Gordo to her, and slept.

In a warehouse need the docks the vampire Drusilla was seated on a luxurious bed, but she hardly noticed. Spike had placed her there when she began flailing on the ground and screaming.

"Can't have my princess bumpin' her head now can we?" he murmured as her set her somewhere where she could cause herself less harm. Now she writhed and shrieked, grabbing at her head and coming away with fists full of hair.

"Noooo! Stop! She burns!"

In a chair sat Spike who was bent over, rubbing at the tension in his neck until he noticed several lackeys standing in the door way. With a snarl he lept to his feet and hurled his chair at them. It hit one of them squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground, and sent the others scattering.

"What the fuck do you idiots not understand about leave us alone!" he bellowed after them. Then he stomped over to Dru's chest of dolls and knocked it over for good measure. He hated the damned things anyway. Gave him the willies they did. Loosing his steam as quickly as he'd gained it he sighed and looked over at Dru. "You don't stop all this soon and you'll drive me as starkers as you are." At that Drusilla uttered the one word that could make Spike's dead blood run cold.

"Daddy! Daddy, the sun! The light! Don't touch it! No, don't leave me! Oh, the fishes are screaming, the air is boiling! Mrs. Edith!" Dru slumped against the bed, gasping as the last of her vision left her. "She's ruined you," she sobbed. "She's ruined you!"

Spike walked out of the warehouse and leaned against the wall where he tried to light a cigarette several times before roaring and throwing his lighter. The muscles in his neck and arms bulged as he tried and failed to contain his rage and he dropped to his knees and pounded at the ground until the cement was broken and his indignation was at least temporarily sated. When he spoke it was little more then a growl.

"Bugger."

Page 4 of 4


	8. Chapter 8

Destiny: What makes you so sure she's not going to? ;-) I'm glad you liked it.

Oppi: Dirty mind? Hey, you said it, not me. Hehe, I think you have to go up another rating for that kind of stuff. Angel still has a long way to go before he'd be ready for anything like that. Right now he's too primitive and childlike and Buffy is too stressed for anything of that nature to help instead of harm. Not that the story will have none of that…just not until later. Much later. :-p

A2zmom: I'm really glad you're enjoying it. I'm enjoying writing it. And yes, I thought the series really skipped over what had to have been worst ordeal in the entire series save Buffy's removal from Heaven. I read the whole Guilt Trilogy. Geez! I sent you an email.

Oh yes, and thank you to oppi, psychioslayerttm, GAKDragonMCP, suzzywuz, and wingnuttia for the faves and alerts. :-D

Author's note: I wanted this to be longer, a lot longer actually, but things keep getting so busy, and suddenly I have this dissertation to fix and I'm possibly, probably, moving to South Korea soon. So, I'm thinking that short chapters often are 1) easier for me, I won't get burned out 2) easier for you, you won't have to wait as long. So, this is essentially what was supposed to be the first…1/3 or ½ of the chapter.

Oh yes, and as always any reviews are welcomed. 

He was in a place where the screaming never ended. Where the sky never cleared. Where the very air burned. He was strapped naked to a table, his body beaten, his arms and legs stretched out tight and held there by rough bands of rope. Every so often a small sharp toothed demon would come and take a nibbling bite out of his flesh. It's saliva burned worse than the bite, and he would scream, and above the screams he could hear the laughter.

Angel woke with a start and again could not fathom where he was. To his confused denigrated mind he was still in Hell and so his confusion mounted with the blinding brightness. It seemed as though he could not adjust his eyes and even the indirect, barely there, of day felt like hundreds of needles on his raw skin. Tears streamed down his burning eyes as he tried to make sense of where he was, and who might be around him. The vulnerability he felt was terrifying.

Then he realized he was on something soft. Surely this was some kind of new game. They were showing him what he did not have in order to torture him further. Tears leaked down his face as he tried to sit up. At the first sensation of restraint he panicked and thrashed, only to find out that the binding wasn't to the bed, but in fact all over his skin. Unbalanced from his movement his tumbled from the warmth of the mattress and onto a wood floor and he groaned as numerous injuries were once again opened. Perhaps it was for the best though; perhaps they would have punished him for reveling in the softness. Then a new fear hit him. What if he was supposed to stay? What if they sent 

him to the fires for moving? His entire body was once again overtaken with trembling at the thought of such agony. Please no, no, no, no, no.

You're forgetting something, a small voice in his head seemed to say, but Angel hardly recognized the voice let alone had the wherewithal to calm and recall what he had forgotten. He was wracked with the feeling that he had seen her and she had been there, that he had touched something that wasn't pain, but that had to be a fantasy. He'd had that fantasy before. That wasn't a memory, that wasn't real. There was nothing he wanted to remember. There was nothing for him. He knew he was crying, but could not seem to contain it even as his keening sobs tore at his ears. He wanted. He didn't know what he wanted exactly but he wanted. Still, the memories that would unlock his understanding were hidden from him. They lay in the peripheral of his mind, tantalizing but invisible. Frustrating, working to shred any knowledge he acquired with their illusiveness. And so, frightened and unsure, he curled up and hoped they would not find him and that maybe she would.

To say that Buffy was in a bad mood at school the next day was an understatement. At lunch, before Cordelia even had a chance to snark, Buffy's costic glare shut her up. Xander giggled at that until Buffy's look was aimed at him.

He held up his hands imploringly. "What? I didn't say anything." Then he paused and leaned closer. "But since I'm talking now and probably going to get my head ripped off anyway, what's eating you? Did something happen?"

Buffy's glare quickly turned into a sulk as she sunk down a little in her chair. "I don't want to talk about it."

Xander looked to Willow who shrugged. "She was gone, now she's back. I don't know anything else. Slayer stuff maybe."

Buffy continued to glare and pout until Oz walked up, then she started and nearly fell out of her chair.

"Hello?" he said.

Buffy held her chest. "Don't sneak up on me. You're likely to get slayed."

Oz raised an eyebrow but under the sarcasm there was hurt. Willow looked to her boyfriend imploringly and shrugged. "She didn't really mean it. She's just stressed."

"Oh." This was Oz again, "I use those scented candles." Buffy sighed and stood but the moment before she lifted her hand from the table it was obvious she was shaking badly. Walking over to the window she crossed her arms and stared out at the lawn forlornly. Oz took her place and began to eat.

"Wills, she's really bad off," Xander said. He spoke in a stage whisper but if Buffy heard him she didn't respond. In fact, at the moment, she was doing a fantastic impression of statue Buffy.

"I know," Willow said, "but she won't say anything. Giles is afraid she's going to…" Willow dropped her voice, "run away again."

They all looked at Buffy as one to see her wiping a tear from her eye.

"Whatever it is," Willow added, "it's bad."

When the bell rang at the end of the day Faith was at Buffy's locker before she'd even opened it.

"Hey B, how ya doing?"

Buffy didn't answer. "Ready to go slay some vamps? Kill some demons? Gah, doesn't it get you pumped up just thinking about it?" Faith air boxed and smiled at the other slayer. Buffy slammed the locker and stomped off toward the library. When she had turned the corner Faith glance over at the locker where the door had been crumpled by Buffy's hand.

"Shit," she said.

Page 2 of 2


	9. Chapter 9

Title: A Double Heart for my Single One

Author: AutumnEvening

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Well, I do, just not anything you'll be reading here. Please don't sue me, I already have more debt than I can handle.

Summary: Alt season 3. Angel comes back considerably more traumatized than in cannon. Angry that Angel is back and feeling Buffy is to blame Spike picks up on the mind games where Angelus left off. Can a young Buffy deal with so much pain, or will she eventually take the out that is offered to her?

Pairing: Buffy/Angel. Some Oz/Willow and Spike/Drusilla. I'm going to pretend Xander and Cordilia never happened.

Rating: T-PG-13.

A2zmom: yeah, without Buffy he doesn't really know what to do.

SunnyKitten: Thank you! I assure you that Angel isn't too far gone. I think perhaps he is almost too far gone, but if he weren't there would be so much angsty goodness, yes? Also, if you like anxt than read Dreamsofspike's stuff. Her writing is…amazing. And if there's anything I've learned from reading her it's that no one is ever too far gone. Also, I can see your point with Amends, but I think Whedon made a mistake using the First as a plot device for the recovery of his vampires (it seems to happen in season 7). Yes, it's ironic and all, but I don't think it would really help. Even if it brought them both back to themselves they'd end up incredibly paranoid. I am following the season somewhat but I think that here I may deviate slightly. Just wait and see how. ;-)

Destiny: lol! I'm so glad. You are my first addict. Thank you.

Oppi: Bossy little chit aren't you? Lol, ok, this chapter is longer (just wait till you see the next one, you'll be thrilled!).

Little miss spell of…: wow, your sn is long! I'm glad you like the fic and I will be updating it...pretty regularly :-D

Cntrysingerchick: I'm so glad you like the story! I'm having a great time writing it. I'm glad you think I've captured the characters, I am trying. I am continuing to write, don't worry. Thank you so much for your kind words. :-D

A/N: Hey, I bought the first season of Angel yesterday. Yay! I know, I'm a few years behind, but I generally have less than no money and it was at Half Price Books (who would throw that out I wonder? They have the whole show. Who would do that? Whoever they are I both thank and resent them). Otherwise, more is on the way, expect another update in a few days. Thank you 

all for your kind words. And as always; all comments and criticism are welcomed and encouraged. And without further ado…

When Buffy arrived at the library Scott was standing outside the doors. He look up at her for a moment, gracing her with a dazzling smile, making her miss Angel's smile, before glancing away and shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Buffy froze.

"Hi, Buffy."

Scott. Nice, sweet, normal Scott. She'd forgotten about him. Buffy felt a new pang of guilt at the thought. No one deserved to be forgotten.

"Um, hey, Scott," she said, trying to think of a way to dismiss him. She contemplated just running into the library and pretending she'd never seen him but dismissed the notion. She'd have to see him again at school anyway. Buffy wanted to scream. She didn't' want to hurt him but everything was so complicated now. So complicated. She couldn't bring another innocent into all this. Buffy knew; she was poison. Angel and Jenny, even Willow and Xander. She'd ruined their lives. And no telling what she'd done to her mother.

At the sound of his name Scott looked up and smiled again. Emboldened by her acknowledgement of him, one that had been void during school that day, he took a small step forward. "You were acting really weird…edgy in school today, and the day before you were gone. Is-is everything ok? Are you just upset about Debbie, because I can totally understand that, I am too…except you didn't know her really well. Are you PMSing or something?"

Buffy reached up and rubbed the spot between her eyes that was beginning to throb. "Yeah, or something," she murmured.

"What?"

Buffy shook her head. "Oh, nothing, just thinking out loud." She put on her best cheerleader smile and tipped her head. Go for sweet, Buffy, pretend you don't kill things for a living; don't betray your loved ones for a living. She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes at the thought and continued to smile. Scott looked confused for a moment, but recovered quickly enough. Never underestimate the power of a Sunnydale resident to ignore the obvious.

"Look, Buffy, I was wondering if you wanted to go to homecoming with me. Or-or maybe something else" He nodded. "We could do something else."

"Oh." Buffy's fake smile began to melt. "Scott…"

He held up his hand and Buffy felt the burn of it in her heart. She couldn't quite recall but she knew that she'd been rude to almost everyone today. She must have really blown him off. "If you don't want to, Buffy, just say it. Say it and I'll be gone."

Buffy swallowed. He was so nice, and so normal. Cute. He was everything she'd lost when she became the Slayer. "Scott…you're really great-"

"But?"

But I'm the Slayer and dating me would probably get you killed. But I'm harboring my vampire ex-boyfriend in a mansion and since he's back from Hell, where I sent him, his recovery is taking up a lot of my time. But I'm in the middle of deceiving my friends and that takes a lot of energy…"-But, I just can't right now. It wouldn't be fair to you. It's-it's complicated, really complicated. I just can't. I'm sorry." Buffy took a deep breath and willed herself not to burst into tears, or spill. He seemed like he'd listen. He could be a rebound. She was allowed a rebound guy, right? Except she'd had rebound guys in L.A. Lost of rebound guys. Guys that her friends, and her mom, didn't know about. She'd tried to use them, tried to forget…about everything, but not even her best attempts had worked. With the first guy she'd cried out in terror and threw him off the bed right--

right before. With the second guy she'd called out Angel's name. With the third guy she'd broken ribs, his not hers, and with the fourth she'd started crying the minute he got her shirt off. It had been humiliating. It had been a disaster. It had been wrong. She couldn't do that again. Instead she squared her shoulders and avoided eye contact.

Scott was frowning, the pain of her rejection evident in his eyes. "I…I see."

Buffy took a step forward, wanting to make this better even as she was making it worse. "No, you don't.."

This time Scott took a step back. "It's ok, Buffy, really, it's ok. Sometimes people just don't …click." With that he turned and walked away, leaving a broken Buffy clinging to her book bag.

Buffy walked into the library and Willow was already there, head in a book. Xander was in a chair, balanced on its two spindly back legs, as he munched on something vended. Buffy wanted something vended, something with more chemically goodness than actual nutrition; Buffy also wanted to kill something. She dropped her bag and Faith walked in. She gave Buffy an odd look but said nothing, instead she continued on to the study table and threw herself down into one of the chairs, an arm on the table, legs spread wide. She smiled brightly.

"Hey, the crew's all here," she said in that voice that sounded like she'd already been smoking for years. Slut. Buffy couldn't help the thought.

Willow looked up at the sound of Faith's voice. "Actually, Oz isn't here." Just then Oz walked in. "Aaand now he is. Hi, Oz." Oz gave Buffy an odd look too and then waved at his girlfriend.

"Hi."

"Now the whole crew's here," Xander said, waving his just-opened Twinkie in Faith's direction. Faith snatched the snack from Xander and stuck it in her mouth and she said something that could have been 'go fuck yourself' but was too muffled to make out. The entire time Buffy had been standing next to the check out table, staring. Were these her friends? Could she tell any of them? Shaking her head she walked over to the stairs and sat down, head in hands and before she knew it Giles was standing in front of her deftly cleaning his glasses.

"Buffy, as your Watcher I feel the need to tell you that I cannot help you reach your potential if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Buffy looked up into his frowning face and considered that Angelus had tortured Giles and would never ever be willing to help her help him, and then she stood and stepped close, intimidating in only the way that a five foot three Slayer can be.

"Nothing is wrong." She planted a fist on her hip. "Oh, wait, unless you count all of you people asking me what's wrong."

Giles took a slow step back and looked away, attempting to hide the pain, the anger, and was that a flicker of fear, in his eyes. "Yes, well, then…"

Buffy couldn't focus on Math. Who cared about math anyway? Sign, cosign? What were these things? They sounded like part of a spell to her. Not that she could focus anyway. Her mind kept drifting back to Angel, damaged, and sleeping in that cold musty mansion. She thought of how he was always shaking and it tore at her heart. She'd have to get him a blanket. She should have gotten one for him earlier, but Buffy was being Buffy again and didn't think of nice things for other people. Selfish. She was so selfish. And she'd have to get more bandages.

Her mind tried to go over things that her mother had done for her when she was little in order to help her feel better. Mom, she sighed, how she wished she could just curl up in her mother's arms and have the world go away just like when she was young. But she was the slayer now. The world never went away.

Her mom used to rub her back when she was sad, rub and whisper soft things in her ear, and kiss her forehead. When Buffy's period first started, and if that isn't one of the grossest things about being a girl than Buffy didn't know what was, talk about a vamp magnet, her mom would give her a hot pack and Buffy would lay her head in her lap and Joyce would play with her hair. That thought drew Buffy to the memory of Angel's hair, greasy, coated in blood and ash. He'd 

always loved his hair…Yes, she determined, she would also bring shampoo and conditioner with her. And soap. But a gentle soap. Was there anything else? Tangent. Stupid tangent. Buffy scribbled over her paper.

During sparring Buffy repeated the list over in her head, then added to it things she would do. Don't forget to touch him, if he wants it. Remember to say nice things. Don't cry. Be gentle. Be very gentle. Bath. He needs a bath. But at the mansion?

The pipes hadn't been used since he, since he left. She recalled this time, when her parents had still been together, when her family went on a camping trip. They'd rented this cabin, but it hadn't been used in months, and when they turned on the water it was brown. It took almost three days for the water to turn clear again. Ok, so no bathing in the mansion, yet. She thought of the local Y, they had what she would need. Besides, maybe he needed to get out? He'd been home, with her, almost a week. Maybe it would help. Touch his hair, be soothing. Smile.

"Damn, B, you should break up with people more often!" Buffy was snapped out of her reverie by Faith removing her hand from the sparring mitt and shaking it out. "You got some real power going there."

"Oh," was all Buffy could say in reply. She really hadn't been paying attention. Then Faith's words caught up with her. "Wait," she narrowed her eyes, "how did you know I broke up with Scott?"

Faith snorted. "Caught him in the hall as he went. Poor kid, looked like he was about to cry." The knife twisted just a little more in Buffy's chest, but Faith didn't notice. The girl wasn't exactly known for her powers of observation, nor her tact for that matter, "No biggy, use 'em and loose 'em, I say."

Faith would say that. She knew nothing. Suppressing a growl Buffy threw a round house that Faith barely managed to block. "Shit!" The younger girl said, scrambling to get the mitt back on and to parry Buffy's continued blows, "Go, B. Talk about some quality rage!"

The minute the sun set Buffy was out of the school and off to patrol.

"Eh, B, wait up," faith cried as she struggled to pull on her jacket and secure her weapons. Buffy rolled her eyes and slowed her pace only slightly. Annoying much? Why couldn't Faith patrol on her own? Oh, yeah, because her mom and Giles were being parental freaks. Buffy huffed and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, despite the moderately warm weather. She shouldn't have been away from him so long. Buffy felt ill. Her life so sucked.

It was as they neared a wooded area near Rasterfeild cemetery that Buffy saw the bunny, and her out. It was a tiny thing, just big enough to make a small rustling in the hedges beside the wood. Just enough.

"Oh! Look! A monster!" And at that Buffy took off running.

"B! Hey, B, wait up!"

"Can't!" Buffy replied, and sped up to a dead sprint, "It'll get away!"


	10. Chapter 10

Title: A Double Heart for my Single One

Author: AutumnEvening

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Well, I do, just not anything you'll be reading here. Please don't sue me, I already have more debt than I can handle.

Summary: Alt season 3. Angel comes back considerably more traumatized than in cannon. Angry that Angel is back and feeling Buffy is to blame Spike picks up on the mind games where Angelus left off. Can a young Buffy deal with so much pain, or will she eventually take the out that is offered to her?

Pairing: Buffy/Angel. Some Oz/Willow and Spike/Drusilla. I'm going to pretend Xander and Cordilia never happened.

Rating: T-PG-13. I think (if my descriptions of what Angel experienced are too harsh or graphic, please tell me so I can change it to M).

Suzzywuz: Hey, you got your wish! Another update bows. I would have posted it with the last, but it needed a little more revision.

Oppi: Thanks!

Also, thanks to SunnyKitten, Whitelight72, suzzywuz, wingnuttia, and cntrysingerchic who faved me or put me on your alert list. Yay!

A/N: I have 450 words on the next chapter. Not much, a few paragraphs, but it's definitely a start. Hopefully you guys won't have to wait for more than a week for it. Also, hehehehe, see how long this one is? Also, also, how do I get those random little boxes to go away? They mess up my page flow…

It was hard to loose Faith. In fact, it was harder than it should have been. It occurred to Buffy that she spent all her time training on how to fight, and none of it on how to get away. She'd have to address that to Giles later. Maybe she should start going on morning runs. She dodged back and forth, all the while hearing the "Wait up, B!" in the background. It wasn't until she had nearly crossed the little wood that she managed to loose the younger Slayer. It was amongst a large pile of rocks and next to a rather jagged cliff, and if that wasn't just the 

weirdest piece of geography she'd ever seen she didn't know what was. Still, Faith was younger, more difficult, and Buffy managed to loose her before she'd completely winded herself, but just barely. Once she knew the other girl couldn't track her she doubled back and headed toward home. She slipped into the house via her bedroom window where she grabbed the quilt off her bed and the toiletries out of the shower and then stuffed them into a bag. Then she left as silently as she entered and downstairs Joyce was none-the-wiser.

Half way to the mansion Buffy stopped by a drug store and stocked up on first aid supplies. The man at the counter looked at her oddly when she dropped enough first aid supplies on the counter to nearly outfit and emergency room but said nothing. Only in Sunnydale. When Buffy got to the mansion it was dark and silent. She turned on the lights in the living room, courtesy of one of the previous tenants, Spike maybe, he seemed to like modern amenities, and looked around. Then she stepped into the bedroom to find the bed empty and the panic that hit her in that moment was so fierce she actually felt dizzy. Had she released a monster on the world…again? Oh God. It passed quickly, though, when she heard a soft whimpering coming from the other side of the bed. She knew that sound.

Swallowing the lump rising in her throat Buffy walked around to take a look at Angel, and covered her mouth at what she saw: he was trembling violently and huddled against the wall in the space between the bed and the lamp stand. How could he even make himself that small? And there was that purring sound again.

"Oh, Angel." At the sound of the soft tearful voice Angel's head snapped up. Apparently he was awake. The look of complete shock and awe on his face made her lungs constrict and, it was too much, attempting to distract herself from the inevitably overwhelming sense of pain and guilt, she turned and walked into the other room where she'd left the cooler. It was still there and the blood was still in it. That meant Angel probably hadn't moved the entire day. He must be so sore. This is your fault, Buffy. That thought only amplified as she realized there wasn't much blood left and she hadn't brought more. She hadn't even thought to get him more. But she was his provider, and his protector, right now. She had to remember these 

things. Sighing she pushed her hands through her long hair, picked up the remaining two bags of blood, and returned to the room.

When she passed the threshold she saw that Angel had moved out a little from the wall, a look of complete panic on his face. Duh, stupid Buffy, should have told him where you were going. From his face he thought she'd left him and Buffy was suddenly reminded of those little kids at the day care who think that when their mom leaves in the morning she's leaving forever. You know, the ones who howl the entire day. When he realized it was her he visibly relaxed, slumping against the side of the bed. "Buffy." He said it with such hope, his eyes closing as fresh tears slipped down his face. Buffy choked on her own sob at the sight as she threw her supplies on the bed and sunk down in front of him.

"Oh, sweetie." She rested her hand on the side of his face, and she didn't miss the flinch when she first touched him, until he looked up at her, and then she slipped her arms around him as gently as she could and helped him to sit on the side of the bed. Once she'd touched his face she couldn't seem to stop, and she brushed away his tears and touched his brow, his cheek, his ears. He turned his face into her touch but his heavy eyes never left her. "I-I'm sorry I left you. J-just now…that was stupid. And-and before-they wouldn't let me come back." Her voice was choked as she tried to explain to the ignorant vampire why she'd been gone. She glanced at his body and then quickly away. Most of his wounds had bled through the bandages, and she could still see his bones through the back of his hands. She'd have to redress…him, and she was painfully aware the blood she had wasn't nearly enough. Breathe. One thing at a time. Breathe.

Buffy looked up at him and laid a hand on his forearm, the degraded muscles under his skin clenched as she did and Buffy removed her hand, swallowed down the bile in her throat. Smile. Remember to smile. "Hey, we're going to get you some pants and then we'll get you clean. Hair washed? Bath? How does that sound?" For a moment Angel just stared as he normally did, then he leaned close and nuzzled her cheek, his cool breath puffing softly on her neck.

"Buffy," he whispered.

Getting the sweats back on him was easier than Buffy had anticipated. He was plaint, no longer fighting her, and though Buffy wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she'd take what she could get. He also seemed to be much more lucid today. Apparently the blood had helped at least some, and he took the other two bags of blood unheated. He watched her every moved, his eyes and head following her, and she got the impression that he was afraid that if he looked away, or blinked, she'd be gone. Several times he began to tremble and his eyes seemed to glaze over but when Buffy touched him, and spoke to him, it stopped. She promised herself that she would keep talking until she left.

That's how they ended up walking through the back alleys of Sunnydale, a bag of toiletries and first aid supplies slung over one arm, and a half-clothed Angel clinging to the other. He jumped and growled at every sound, every bit of breeze, rustled leaf, or little demon hiding in the corner. And, despite her guilt making her decidedly more patient than usual Buffy was suitably annoyed by the time they reached the local YMCA.

"Here we are," she said brightly, prying her arm away from Angel's clinging hands, as she gripped the chains locking the outdoor pool and broke them. All this breaking and entering and she felt bad for a moment, but brushed it away, this was for a good cause. "Our very own bath." She opened the gates and led Angel in. Angel reattached himself to her arm, though he had now averted his attention from her to the Olympic length swimming pool. In the pale light of the moon its glassy surface looked a silvery blue. Angel eyed it dubiously. Buffy almost laughed as they came to a halt beside the kiddy pool. A foot and a half of chlorinated fun.

Despite it being an outdoor pool and autumn the water was still warm, and it was something Buffy had bet on. The mansion was a no-go for now, but that was where outdoor water sources, like the lovely YMCA pool came in handy, it was California after all. Still, Angel treated the water as though it was poison, or acid perhaps, and Buffy wasn't going to even let her thoughts wander to that possibility, until she slipped off her shoes and socks and stuck her feet in. Then he submitted to the stripping of the sweats and the sitting in the kiddy pool. He hissed as the chlorine soaked through the bandages and touched his skin, and Buffy felt guilty for that too, but there wasn't really anything she could do, and something inside of her was 

beginning to feel a touch of numb, like a second shot of Novocain when the dentist drills too deep.

Rolling up the legs of her pants she sat behind him on the edge of the pool and rested her feet on his hips. Angel glanced up at her for a second before looking back down at the water in a kind of subdued awe and running his hands slowly over the surface. With a belated sigh she gathered the shampoo, conditioner, and soap to her along with a plastic cup and a soft wash cloth and, dipping her cup into the water, she began.

She was talking to him. Angel knew she was saying things. She kept saying things, always making the soft noises, noises that soothed. He wished that he could understand her, but anything beyond her name, and perhaps his name, were lost to him linguistically. He stiffened as he felt the cool water begin to trickle into his hair and down his scalp, but when no pain of any kind followed he relaxed back against her. Buffy. Touching her was better, even if it hurt. She was warm, and smelled of vanilla, and sweat, and something fresh and alive. He thought perhaps it started with a 'g' sound, but he couldn't be sure. She poured more water over his head, and it trickled down his face and neck. He liked the smell of it and he wrinkled his nose as it ran in rivulets by his nostrils.

Buffy. He tried not to think that she might not be real, or that this might be a dream. He tried to focus on the feeling of her warmth against his back, of the water on his legs, of her hands and arms and voice. She touched him this time, and though he felt such shame that something so light would lay a hand on him yet he could not bring himself to make her stop. He relished the touch, soaked it up like food and water. It didn't matter that his stomach still gnawed at him in hunger. She was here. Buffy. That was enough. Even still, when she opened the bottle and poured out a handful of chemical smelling goop he couldn't help but flinch away. She was going to punish him for making her impure. A voice in his head told him it was the least that he deserved, but he could not quell the terror that rose. Then her hand was resting gently on his neck and turning him to face her. He didn't resist her because he understood; he 

had no right. He had done…things, he couldn't quite remember, but he knew, to her, and she could do whatever she wanted to him in turn.

"Hey. Hey," she said gently, trying to make eye contact, "it's ok. It's not going to hurt you. Just shampoo. See?" She took his hand, that until then had been resting in the lukewarm water, and placed it on the goop and though he tried to wrench his hand away she would not let him. It took several minutes of blind panic before he realized that it didn't hurt. The goop, which glittered slightly, didn't hurt at all. She wasn't going to punish him. He stopped the keening which had began and stared at her. What was she going to do? Very carefully , and watching him all the wile she reached up and rubbed the goop into his hair. "Just shampoo," she said, though her voice had taken on that rougher quality he found it sometimes did, "not gonna hurt you."

Angel began to relax again and she turned him so that his back was too her. Maybe she didn't want to see his face? She was massaging his scalp and he could feel the grime and blood of the centuries beginning to slide out. It didn't matter that the shampoo stung against the small abrasions in his skin, he was grateful at the thought that he might be clean, and it felt so good. Unknowingly he relaxed further against her, but when he realized how free he was being, that his head was practically resting in her lap, he tried to jerk away only to have her catch him. "It's ok. You're ok. You're just fine," she said, and pushed his head back down and continued her work.

Angel was lulled by her soft voice, and softer hands, tender treatment after lifetimes without it. At one point she had him dip under the water, he lay there blinking up at her for several minutes until a light touch on his forehead told him he should sit up again, and she re-lathered his hair, then she had him do it again. The white patches that had littered his body floated away, and she took more goop, it bubbled this time, and put it in a soft wet rag that she ran over his body. Angel was once again in shock. He knew where his body had been and she shouldn't have been touching it, but she was. The cloth was so soft, still it hurt, but the pain didn't matter anymore; most of his wounds had closed anyway. The thought that anyone would even lay a hand on him in anything other than violence was an absolute miracle, and he 

couldn't help that his eyes closed or the soft purr that erupted from his chest. It was a miracle, nothing like this ever happened in Hell.

Apparently the sound of happy purring startled Angel as much as it startled Buffy because suddenly she was staring down into wide brown eyes. He turned his eyes to the trees, and then to the starry sky and the startled look depended. She had long since given up the idea that she wasn't going to get wet, and so it had been no problem when Angel had slumped down and rested his head on her thigh, but now he turned around quickly, and because of the position they'd been in, her legs straddling his back, one of his broad shoulders caught her under her knee and sent her tumbling into the pool too.

The water was rather gross, a ten foot wide pink bubbly mass. Some of Angel's injuries had opened again during washing, but at least they were clean. Buffy planned to redress them after she was done with the conditioner. Instead of rinsing him again she found herself sitting in the cooling water, staring at a shocked Angel. He looked from her to the trees, to the pool, to the sky, and back to her, blinking almost comically the entire time. He looked like someone who had just woken up. Had he fallen asleep? She hadn't thought…but maybe. Then he was close to her, invading her space, looking her over. This time when their eyes met his were sparkling with question.

"…Buffy?"

At his look Buffy realized that he knew. He finally knew, and not in that won't-remember-you-in-the-morning way that he had known, but in the real solid I-know-who-you-are know, and she burst into tears.

"Yes," she said through her weeping, "yes. Me. Buffy. It's Buffy." His arms were around her then, thin and damaged as they were, and then he was crying into her chest, but it was a good crying, an elated crying. She didn't know what exactly had triggered this revelation but she wouldn't trade it for the world.

When they finally pulled away the water in the kiddy pool was cold.

"Well," Buffy said, wiping at her tear dampened eyes, "we better finish. They'll send out a search party for me soon."

Angel gave her a dazzling smile. "Buffy," he said.

She conditioned his hair and helped him out of the pool, drying him off with a towel she found at the lifeguard's station-she'd have to remember towels next time too. Then she reapplied aloe and antibiotic cream to the wounds and re-bandaged them, finally she helped him back into the sweats, studiously avoiding that area. If Angel noticed her avoidance he didn't acknowledge it.

If he'd been attached to her before he was a leach now, he seemed filled with a need to touch her. On the way back he touched her hair, her shoulders and back, played with her fingers, and she could feel his gaze burning into her. She continued to talk, "I met this guy, Scott, he was pretty great, but it didn't work out. Oh, and Giles and my mom are in cahoots now…" but if she turned to look at him he would let go and look away. It was odd, but Buffy--Buffy didn't know if she could blame him--if he could remember what he did at all…She pushed the thoughts out of her head. He couldn't remember and he needed her.

At the mansion she helped him lay down on the bare mattress again, and wrapped him in her quilt. He stared at her adoringly and whispered her name.

"I have to go, but I'm going to be back tomorrow night. I'll have food, er, blood, and other…stuff. I'll get you everything you need." She met his eyes. "You just need to stay here. Sleep and stuff. Please, don't go out. Just say, and I'll be back, ok? I promise." She touched his face lightly and he leaned into the touch, then Buffy turned and left.

It was luck, really, that she found the vamp on the way home, and even luckier that he was attacking that sorority girl. Well, lucky for Buffy, and kind of lucky for the girl, not for the vamp. She kicked him off the screaming student and went to stake him but he got a good strike against her cheek bone, ouch, and then another against her ribs. It was too late to be doing this. With an angry huff she flipped the creature and dusted him. Rubbing her bruised face she turned back to the victim; she was crying and she'd been bitten, but nothing to plan a funeral 

about. Buffy helped her stand and walked with her to the emergency room entrance. By that time the other girl was thanking her profusely.

"It's nothing," Buffy said, pushing her toward the emergency room door, "just don't go out so late, or so alone, again, ok?" The girl nodded. For some reason Buffy didn't believe her. Only in Sunnydale. It wasn't until she was walking home that she realized that she was covered in blood. Bingo.

Buffy threw open the doors to the library, startling everyone who had been sitting around obviously waiting for her.

"Buffy, where were-"

"Got him!" she announced, breathing like she'd just been in a fight, or like she'd just run from the Sunnydale emergency room to the library.

Giles eyes widened, and then narrowed. Buffy wondered if he bought it. "Buffy, you really should call us before you take off after some unknown creature. It could have killed you."

Buffy scoffed. "But it didn't. Plus, been there, done that."

"Buffy," Giles said.

"That must have been one fast bastard," Faith added. "Go, B."

Buffy smiled, feeling only somewhat guilty for lying through her teeth.

"Alright, Giles, sorry. Next time I'll try and let you guys know. Ok?"

Giles sighed and nodded and Willow and Xander, who had been asleep on one another until Buffy's dramatic entrance, began to sluggishly gather up their things in order to head home.

Faith was already out the door. "Later!" she called.

"Anyway," Buffy added, "It was big, and brown, and looked kind of like sticks, or something, but I'm tired now. Talk to you in the morning. Bye!"

Buffy took off, sparing Oz a short smile before she was gone. For several minutes after everyone had vacated Oz continued to lean against the check out desk, looking for all the world like the cool and nonchalant guy he was. He sniffed the air, and then sniffed it again, and frowned. That was odd. Kneeling down he swiped up a drop of blood that had fallen from Buffy, tasted it lightly, and his frown deepened. That was very very odd.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Before you all kill me for making you wait this long for a new chapter I MOVED ACROSS THE WORLD to South Korea, STARTED A CAREER IN A NEW CULTURE WITH A NEW LANGUAGE AND NO ONE THAT I KNEW. Whew. Now that that's over. Hey, was that grammatically correct? is too tired to really care But really, you all have been wonderful and I can't thank you enough for the reviews and comments. I adore you all. I'm sorry it took me three times longer to post this than I thought it would. I underestimated how much work this transition would be. And, I will finish this story, because finishing this is going to be my proof to myself that I really do have the stamina to write a book. So, enjoy and I may be up for a very detailed beta so my work may get a bit better in the next few chapters. We'll see. I've had a bit of writer's block on some parts, so sorry if they seem disconnected at all(and please tell me if they do so I can fix it). Anyway, the chapter is rather shorter than I hoped it would be. Well, no, that's not true. The same frigging thing happened in this chapter as has happened in every other chapter. Right length, but half of the plot progression and I still feel like I'm not detailed enough….Did I mention I'm now an actual English teacher?

As always, read and review. I love reviewers, so does my muse. The more you do the fast I write. bats eyelashes And, I own nothing so if you sue me you're just wasting your time.

It would have been nice, romantic, if it had been Buffy that had opened the floodgates of Angel's mind, but sometimes the things that cause the most dramatic changes are the things no one thinks of. So it was the stars. See, Hell has no stars. Not only due to the fact that the murky cloudy sky never clears, but to the fact that there are none. No sun, no moon, so stars. Hell exists on a plane all its own and it exists void of any reminder of future or hope or deity. But here, here there were stars, masses of stars. And suddenly Angel was startled into the reality of…reality. Not a dream, not a lie, no trick at all. Buffy was here, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. He was close, practically on top of her, and crying against her then and he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten that way, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. She was with him, everything would be alright.

Except…

She finished with his hair and helped him from the water. He stood there, staring at her in shock, so stunned, so elated, that he couldn't formulate a response. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He couldn't remember words and _that_ was why he couldn't formulate a response, but even if he had remembered he still wouldn't have been able to, so overwhelming were his feelings.

She toweled him dry and that was when Angel first noticed the tension, though his muddled mind could not conceive of why. He reveled in her touch, wished she would go on forever. She was so beautiful, so amazing--and something was wrong.

Concerned he tried to reach out to her, but she turned away without noticing, forcing his weight to shift, collapsing his legs, and sending a blinding pain through his entire body. Anyone else would have made a noise, cried out, but the instinct to protest against pain had long ago been beaten out of him. Instead when she turned back he was on his knees, gasping, as tears filled his eyes. A look of deep unhappiness crossed her face and Angel felt immediately remorseful. He'd done something, he knew he had, he was weak. Perhaps she was disgusted by his weakness. He certainly was. They had told him how weak he was for so long. She must be so disappointed in him, and yet…there she was, helping him, touching him, loving him.

It was odd, watching her dress him. She didn't make eye contact at all and he felt his heart fall at that. Had he done something bad? Of course he had, he always did, that was why he'd been sent _there_ after all. He was too disgusting for this place, for her, and Hell had only made him more so. He couldn't help reaching out to touch her, he couldn't help staring at her. It had been so long since he had looked upon such beauty, and it burned him. Still, when she would turn he would step back, look away, because he was ashamed, and because he didn't know how to stop.

At the mansion, and he had a confusing cacophony of thoughts and memories that now came with seeing the place, she took him back to the room he'd found himself in that morning and laid him down on the bed. She couldn't know it but the bed smelled of his children, and of his unwashed body, and if she hadn't appeared to want him to lay there he would have recoiled from the stench that burned his sensitive nostrils. But she _did_ want him to lay there, and then she wrapped him in a quilt that smelled wholly of her. She sat there for some time, just petting him. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. Her hands lulled him into a semi-lucid state, one where his limbs felt like lead, but his heart didn't feel quite so heavy. Then she stood and Angel had to fight the instinctive panic that rose in him. She was leaving, she was leaving, she'd never return. But she asked him to stay, and she said she'd come back, and he was so so tired. So he watched her go and knew that he would do anything if she asked it, and hoped that she would keep her word and return. Images flashed through his mind as she closed the door softly behind herself, and as sleep consumed him a tear trickled its way down his temple, passed just above his ear, and dropped to the pillow, because if even a fraction of what was in his mind was real than there was no way she was ever coming back.

When Buffy woke the next morning she staggered into the bathroom only to find a zombie looking back at her from the mirror. She really had to find some time to sleep. Dull hair, pasty skin, and dark lined eyes met her. Even after a hot shower and a good facial scrub there still wasn't much improvement. Much longer like this and people would start mistaking _her _for a vampire.

When she finally came downstairs her mother was sitting at the kitchen island sipping a steaming hot cup of coffee. Buffy wondered how she could drink the stuff and not scald her tongue. But then maybe, after years of drinking scalding hot coffee, she had burned off all the taste buds and it didn't matter anymore. Seeing her mom there, so close, made her wish she was still a little girl and could go cry against her mother's breast, and believe everything would be alright. But she wasn't a little girl anymore, and nothing would ever be alright. This wasn't something mom could fix, mom had sent her away last time, and Buffy was struck with an acute awareness of just how alone she was and, for a glaring moment, the world and everything in it turned to ugly shades of grey.

Joyce looked up at Buffy and tried to smile but failed. "Buffy…Good morning."

"Hi, mom." Buffy found it was hard to speak when she felt like there was a boulder on her chest. She dropped her book bag next to a nearby stool.

"So…how's museum stuff going?"

Joyce picked up a bagel and took a small bite while Buffy went to the cupboard and the fridge for cereal and milk.

"Good, we've got a new shipment coming in, in a few days, it'll take up a lot of my time this week, but it'll be worth it. I really think this new display will draw people."

"Oh," Buffy said, both relieved that Mom would be away and therefore not there to ask questions and also disappointed because she could really use mom-support right now. She poured her cereal and they ate in silence. Not much to say when what wanted to be said couldn't. Not much to say when the relationship was still so precarious.

As she headed for the door her Joyce caught her, giving her a gentle kiss on the head and a pat on the butt before sending her out. Normally it would have made Buffy grin and say something about her almost-adult status. Now she smiled out of one side of her mouth and gave a half-hearted wave. When the door closed Joyce sighed. Buffy looked so down. Maybe they were being too hard on her.

Buffy didn't speak until lunch, when Cordilia pointed out just how much she didn't think Buffy could win homecoming queen. Who did that bitch think she was? Buffy could have kicked her ass, and with as little sleep as she'd had she was sorely tempted to do so. But she didn't. No killing humans. So, instead she went and spent the rest of lunch with Faith, who took her time flirting with every guy she passed. Maybe _she_ should run for homecoming queen, Buffy had 

more important things to deal with-like what she was going to do with her traumatized vampire (ex?)boyfriend, or how she was going to keep it from everyone, or how she was going to find time to sleep in all this. She sighed and looked away as Faith pressed herself just a little too close to one of the baseball jocks. "…just love those big arms." She heard. Buffy rolled her eyes, maybe it would have been better to stay near Cordelia.

Oz spent the entire night mulling over what he'd smelled, what he'd seen, and by the next morning he'd decided he had to talk with Buffy. Something was definitely up, and while he would normally have simply told Willow he had the feeling this probably wasn't to which something she's respond well. Ironically Oz actually found it hard to catch Buffy that day. Ironically, because she stayed so near girls with such strong scents. He reminded himself that he needed to stop relying on his wolf senses, remember he had human ones that worked just as well, even if the Beast in him was getting stronger, Oz shook his head, and that was definitely not where he wanted his thoughts to go.

When class was over he tried to talk to her but she didn't notice him and Oz had never been one for forcing people to notice him. They usually did that all on their own and more so than he wanted. In addition he was hyper-aware that in this state of mind she might forget he was her friend and do something rash-like throw him through a wall-if he bothered her. As it was he decided to wait until after she'd trained, hoping she would work off some of the pain and tension he could feel. The summer had done quite a number on her.

Still determined to meet with her, to ask her, though he couldn't account for the curiosity. He blamed it on the wolf, told himself he didn't care, there was no reason to care, but something else told him there was every reason, the essential connection that Willow brought between him and her, the bond of indirect intimacy.

Cordelia caught him as he trailed Buffy out of the school.

"Hey, wolfboy!"

Oz looked up and for a moment thought about making a run for it, but what was he kidding, she was like a leech when she wanted to be and he was never the running type. Well, not in this form anyway.

A flicker of something across his face. "And here I thought we'd forgone with the formalities."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Oh puleez. Hey, do you think you could talk to your geeky girlfriend for me?"

Oz blinked at her. Every moment she talked Buffy got further away and harder to track. He risked a glance behind him to find she'd already disappeared from the street. Crapola.

"So, are you going to talk to her."

Oz blinked, his face a school of blank. "About what?"

Cordelia gave a long suffering sigh and blocked him when he tried to step around her. "About homecoming. It's in two days and her obvious problems with me are making it hard to get those geeky computer guys to vote for me."

Oz tried to side step her but again she blocked him. Depending on how fast she was going Buffy could be half a mile away by now. "Tell her to start being nice to me," Cordelia continued, then "hey, are you even listening."

"No," Oz said.

"What are you looking for anyway? What's more important than homecoming?"

Rhetorical question perhaps? Oz shrugged "Buffy."

Oz took off to hear Cordelia calling "Buffy this, Buffy that, it's not always about _her_!"

He almost didn't catch her. Could have been because he never expected her to go and sit in the cemetery and cry. Cry and cry and cry until she vomited, coughing and gagging on ground. Then, right when he was about to go over to her she stood, wiped off her tears and took off.

Then she broke into a blood bank. Oz almost smiled at the irony of it, almost.

When she came out with a plastic bag full of stuff he was convinced she was stealing blood but then she dropped the bag and first aid supplies fell out. Then he _did_ smile.

He followed her to Angelus old mansion, but then she went in, and Oz wasn't about to follow the Slayer into a darkened mansion filled with the ghosts of serial psycho killers. He tried to see inside but not even his heightened senses allowed him to see in. Deciding to keep quiet for now he elected to follow her again and figure out what was going on. Because, whatever was going on was going to change everything.

The next chapter is more Bangely. Read and review. I'll try and respond to your posts and stuff tomorrow before work, which will be night for most of you. p.s. I've started the next chapter already, but do me a favor and, if you have the will, keep on me about it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Woo-hoo! Look who upated! I'm so jazzed about this, and it's my longest chapter yet. Don't know what got me in gear again but I stayed up half the night to finish it. I'm afraid my muse will be in hiding come morning. **

**Thank you to all who commented and favorited. You do inspire me even if you can't always see it.**

**Uh, there was, oh, yeah, I remember. All mistakes are mine and I'm sorry you have to read them. Please enjoy.  
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**Disclaimer: I owe pretty much nothing, and certainly not these characters. Please don't sue me. You'd be wasting your time.**

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By the time the sun set Angel was thoroughly convinced Buffy was never returning. He was also convinced that he deserved every moment of Hell he'd been through, and more. Hideous images of torture, assault, and carnage ran ceaselessly behind his eyes. He moaned and pressed the heel of his hands to his eye sockets, trying to shut out the images, but it didn't work. He had broken her, taken what was most innocent about her and shattered it. She should hate him. How could she not hate him?

She'd send him back, it would only be right after what he did. She'd send him back. But the thought of going back _there_ had him sobbing even as he hid in a dark corner, hoping she wouldn't. Hoping she wouldn't and believing she would. All the while a darkness, a wild, ceaseless intelligence seemed to be creeping into his mind, his being. It spoke no words but he could hear the growl of it. Had it always been there? The images continued and Angel wrapped his emaciated arms around himself. The worst part was, hating these images, despising them so deeply and yet…not enough. He would never do those things, but he had, he had and he had relished it. It was torture, to see the destruction he had wrought, to feel like that wasn't him, and to know _know_ it was him and that he had done it. He was responsible. The pain that passed through his damaged frame was a penetrating pain, it sizzled through every muscle, every fiber, and made him jerk, unable to hold back a response to such a force, but he didn't cry out. He deserved the pain he got.

When Buffy stopped to look at him the sight of her strong Angel, huddled in a corner, cringing away from her was too much. After all she'd been through, all the pain, all the fear, some of which was a direct result of his alter-ego, it was much much too much. Buffy dropped to her knees with a painful thud and began to sob. He was never coming back. Her Angel, the man she loved, was never coming back. She didn't know how long she cried, though it was long enough to wear out her eyes, tear at her throat, and subject her brain to a painful, rather unbelievable throbbing. Why was it that when you cried that hard you always felt like your brain was about to fall out?

She knew she should, she knew he deserved it, but she couldn't bring herself to move over to him, to comfort him, or to touch him. Little did she know that her tears brought Angel more anguish and that, as much as he wanted to comfort her, his guilt wouldn't allow him to touch her. It didn't help, the things they'd done to him in Hell. If she knew—maybe she should know. Maybe she'd stake him and maybe, just maybe, the powers that be would be merciful and end his existence. He knew no one like him could ever go to Heaven.

Slowly, oh so slowly as not to frighten her, or perhaps to ease the pain that crashed like waves upon him, he eased his way over to her. He thought to tell her, there were words fluttering about inside his head. Maybe he could make sense of them enough to tell her. Intent on this he reached his hand out to rest on her forearm, which covered her face, a small tingling passed through is fingers and Angel had a moment to think that was odd before he jerked back in horror as Buffy screamed.

What she'd seen before was _nothing_ compared to this. What she had sent him to was something _no one_ deserved. There was pain, it felt like he was being torn in half, and blood, so much blood, and the mocking laughter of what he'd been reduced to. And there was the girl, the one he'd tried to be kind to, who was screaming, forced to watch him endure a fate that was about to become hers. Then, and worst of all, there was the horrible horrible knowledge that this wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last and there was nothing, nothing, that he could do to stop it.

The image left Buffy as quickly as it came but the effect stayed so she was left sore and trembling, hot tears streaming down her face. God, she was a monster. _Yes_ a voice seemed to whisper in her mind, _you are._

For a long while she couldn't move but when she finally could, when her eyes cleared, she wished she could just close them again. Angel, who had pushed himself against the wall near her was scratching at his forearms. He'd ripped the bandages from then and now there were bloody gashes where his nails had dug grooves. He couldn't lose more blood, he wouldn't make it.

Quick as lightning she was over to him and pulling his hands away to push them against the wall. Angel flinched at her touch but she held him firm.

"Stop it," she demanded, a steal edge to her trembling voice. Angel flinched again and turned his face away, but didn't try to move out of her grip. Didn't she understand, didn't she know? He deserved it. He deserved pain. There was something black and evil inside him and he had to get it out.

The voice in Buffy's head intensified at the sight of Angel's hefty flinch. _Monster! _It bellowed. Y_ou've destroyed him. This is all your fault._ Buffy choked back a sob at the anguished look on Angel's face. Her fault. Her fault and her responsibility. God, she was too young for this. With a deep quivering sigh she released his hands and leaned in to rest her head against his shoulder. She was so very tired. Angel froze at being touched so familiarly but began to slowly relax when it became clear that she had no intention of moving away from him. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this reprieve but again he was too selfish to reject her. Instead his hands itched to touch her, to become familiar with her features again. After a time she sighed again and pulled back, and for the first time he noticed the dark bags under her eyes.

She looked at him, both serious and concerned. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Angel hesitated to respond, uncomfortable with asking for anything when she'd given him so much, but one thing was making the ache in his body nearly unbearable. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but encouraged by Buffy's nods and gentle smiles he finally spoke.

"B-Buffy," he said softly, "c-c-cold." The word sounded odd on his tongue and he knew he wasn't saying it properly but his mouth wasn't able to cooperate properly. He sighed and looked away, embarrassed by his weakness, and his stupidity.

For a moment she was overwhelmed by hearing him speak anything other than her name, but Buffy's eyes widened as she realized that his shivering might not be from fear. She felt both relief and guilt wash through her at the realization. "Let's get you warmer," she said kindly as she slipped her arm around his waist and awkwardly helped him to stand. Once beside the bed she led Angel to sit and returned to her backpack in the other room, trying desperately to ignore the keening sound he began making the minute she stepped away. Did he want her or hate her? Did it matter? From her back pack she pulled a pair of sheets. The mattress looked dirty and the thought of him resting on something that could infect his wounds had haunted her all night.

Thankfully, when she returned the keening stopped and she helped Angel to stand and lean against the bedside table while she put she sheets on and picked the quilt up from where it had fallen on the floor. Why hadn't he retrieved it? Did he think he wasn't allowed? Shuddering at the thought she laid the thick bedding over the sheets and led Angel to touch it.

"This is yours now," she said, "all yours. You can take it where ever you want. You can do whatever you want with it. It's not mine." His wide eyes told her he understood. "Now, how about we get you under the covers and warmed up?"

Carefully she helped him into the bed and then, much to his astonishment, climbed in beside him. "Is this alright?" she asked. He could only nod. Anything she did was alright. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her warm body against his side. "I know you don't make any heat of your own," she said, "so I thought this might help." Angel could only stare at the ceiling. This was bliss, he was sure of it. Not only had she returned but now he found himself almost freed of the reek of the mattress and surrounded not only by her smell but by her warmth and by *her*. He took a deep breath and finally relaxed.

Buffy waited until Angel's shivering stopped and followed by his breathing before allowing herself to drift to sleep as well. It might be a fantasy that her Angel was there with her, holding her, but it wasn't one she was willing to relinquish quite yet.

Angel woke later on, more comfortable than he could ever remember being, he turned his head to the side to find that Buffy wasn't there and for a moment he panicked. But, he'd barely managed to sit up when she came back into the room, carrying a massive pile of first aid and several warmed bags of blood. She gave him the blood first and he took them gratefully, turning away to drain them as quickly as possible before sheepishly handing the emptied bags back. She smiled warmly at him and Angel felt a bit as though he were standing in sunlight.

Buffy had him lay back and turned the covers away before she set to the arduous task of re-bandaging his wounds. Several of them were still open and raw and this bothered her deeply. Angel just lay there, basking in the gentle physical contact. He didn't care about the pain, it was the purpose he relished. He was nearly asleep again when he felt her slide into bed beside him. With his eyes closed he gave an almost-smile and let out a soft purr. There was nowhere else he'd rather be. Then, when his mind was blurred and this limbs heavy with lethargy he felt soft lips brush against his own. It was only a moment, and the touch was light, but it sent a lazy heat spiraling through his body, and before he could respond a blessedly dreamless sleep pulled him under.

When Angel woke the next morning Buffy was gone, but two bags of blood, nestled in a box filled with ice, sat on the table beside him and beside that a letter. He sat up gingerly, not wanting to move from the warmth and comfort that had surrounded him, to snag the letter and pull it back. He couldn't yet recall how to read so the words themselves were of little use to him but Angel did know that it was *her* who wrote it and her words were for him and made quite an impact. With a sigh he laid back down holding the letter to him and let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, all this was real and she would return.

Buffy made it to her room just minutes before she heard her mother begin to stir down the hall. She breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled down into her pillows and comforter. It had been a good night, except for the kiss, maybe including the kiss. She hadn't meant for that to happen. He'd just looked so peaceful. So…angelic. So ironic that he could be skeletal from starvation and riddled with gashes yet still look beautiful. No wonder no one could resist him in his days as Angelus. Angelus; she flinched at the thought. _You've let him out,_ a voice seemed to whisper, _you're a monster and you've let a monster return to this world. You make everyone suffer._ And all of a sudden Buffy was fighting back tears. No, Angel wasn't a monster. He was many things, but not a monster. Consoling herself with this she took a deep breath and relaxed into her bed. She'd had more sleep this last night than she'd had in quite some time.

When she woke again she was pleased to find her mother cooking eggs and toast. She kissed Joyce on the cheek as she snagged a plate.

"What was that for?" her mother asked. Buffy just smiled and began to eat. Then after several minutes she looked up.

"Thank you, mom."

Joyce could only smile in return, turning to check the coffee so her daughter wouldn't see the grateful tears shimmering in her eyes.

At school Buffy was more alive than she had been in quite some time. That is to say, she actually participated in class, and only seemed half distracted from everything. Her friends watched her closely, but not as closely as Oz. That smell, she was covered in it, but where was it from?

Willow pulled Buffy aside between classes.

"Buffy, are you ok?"

Buffy looked away guiltily. "Sure thing, Willow. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just…you've been different since you came back."

Buffy nodded solemnly and tried to slip from Willow's sudden grip on her forearm. "Living on your own will do that to you."

Willow shook her head, frustrated and a little frightened by her friend's evasion. "It's more than that," she said, "I can just…I know, and you know, and the other day, at the store…" she trailed off. "Please, just tell me."

Buffy pulled out of her friend's grip and took a measured step back. Her lip trembled but she would not allow herself to cry. "I'm sorry, Wills, I really am, but I just can't. Please believe me and please just-just back off."

The bell rang and Buffy turned to her next class without another word. She avoided Willow and, by default, the rest of her friends for the rest of the school day.

It was close to the full moon and Oz could feel the wolf pulling heavily on him but he still allotted to follow Buffy again that night. Luckily this time no one caught him as he was leaving. Sure enough, she patrolled for about an hour but then made her way to the mansion where she disappeared again. Oz was about to head off, believing it was a dead end, or perhaps something he shouldn't be nosing around in anyway, when the door to the mansion opened.

When he saw who was there he found himself entirely grateful that he was positioned downwind. The last thing he would need was for them to sense him, or smell him. Because, in the doorway was Buffy, helping a thin and limping Angel through the doorway. He followed them as far as the local WMCA before turning back. Well, that was new. He took a deep breath as he let himself in his room. This would definitely change everything. Nodding to himself he decided to talk to Willow about it in the morning. She was Buffy's friend. Surely she would know what to do.


End file.
